Sunday Goodbyes

Writing in the local paper. Local issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.

Sunday afternoon in the Calle Moret in this everlasting climate-change-denyer's indian summer. At first glance everything looks the same. Graffiti splatters the shuttered shop windows that used to bear life and the few businesses that are still open are also closed up tight for a well-deserved day of rest. After all it is Sunday in Spain and moreso in Caceres. But a closer look, and listen, shows that it’s not just another sleepy Day of their Lord. About halfway down the pedestrian street a few people appear, then a few more and suddenly there’s a large crowd. After the recent altercations between the raging nationalists that have happened in the main square, you could start to feel nervous but there are no flags, anger or confrontation here, just smiles, dance steps and cries for more. This is a meeting of a different sort. A way to say goodbye and to celebrate the last few days of friendship, stories and of course, music. Tables of friends from everywhere from Barcelona to Bilbao to Burgos and Badajoz, sitting together enjoying the weather, the delicious paella, the cold beer and of course, the music. For just a few hours there’s more talk about pianos and pentatonics than Pujols, Pujdemonts and politics. After the 3 days of the Blues festival, this is where everyone says goodbye. Musicians bound for concerts in Madrid and the coast later that day stop for a brief moment and join in with the house (in this case street) band before the long ride to the next concert. The return to the routine for others is put off, if for just another hour or two and enough time to listen to a few more songs. Curious children cautiously approach the drums, amazed that just three people playing instruments can make so much noise. It’s a bit of a secret event, one that for some reason doesn’t appear in the official program of the festival, but those who know, know, this is where the goodbyes are sent and as long as the band plays on, tomorrow is still that, tomorrow.